The King, The Prince, and the Minnesota Girl
by renaissancegirl23
Summary: Aragorn and Legolas come to my house they try to adjust to life in 2005, and I try to fight off fangirls. Please R and R! This story is now COMPLETE! Please don't hate the ending.
1. Thunderstorm!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything!

Summary: Yeah, it's about LoTR people in modern times (cliché, I know!). But I just wanted to try it. Legolas and Aragorn come to my house via a very weird way, but hopefully you won't care about that.

So I'm alone, at night, at my house. My brother's at a friend's house, and my parents went shopping, and it's around eight o'clock. About an hour ago it got really dark outside, even though Mr. Dependable Weatherman called for clear skies tonight. "There goes my bike ride," I think as I plop down on the couch. I hadn't watched The Fellowship of the Ring in a while, so I stick the disc in the DVD player, and now, an hour later, after a little fast-forwarding, the Council of Elrond has just started (my favorite part!). I'm munching popcorn and saying the lines along with the movie, something I'm allowed to do only when no one else's watching with me.

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?" I declare along with Legolas. "The ring must be destroyed!" My small black Pomeranian, Dolly, barks at me in agreement, and I give her a popcorn kernel for being cute. I turn my attention back to the screen, and now, Frodo is proclaiming he will take the ring, the Fellowship is formed, the music crescendos, as does my heart. Love that scene!

After I return from the kitchen with a fresh Mountain Dew, I can tell the weather's getting worse. _I better go put the big dogs in the shed._ I head outside, dodging the raindrops, and herd our family's two black Labradors into the shed in the backyard, shut the door, and run back to the house. I return just in time to see the Fellowship leave Lothlorien, a very nice little scene, too. I crack open the pop can and take a swig, feeling the pure caffeine rejuvenating my tired body. I stroke Dolly, who's sleeping now, and watch the boats float down the river.

Ah, the Battle of Amon Hen, the best fight scene in the movie. Who can't love Pippin and Merry throwing rocks at Uruk-Hai, Boromir defending them, and Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli fighting in their "oh-so-cool" style?

_CRRRRRAAAAAAACCCCCCCKKPOW!_

After a brief, illuminating flash of lightning and a deafening thunderclap, my entire house goes dark, including (duh) the television. Yet, a faint glow surrounds it, an eerie, greenish halo. I gasp as I see two dark figures huddled in front of the coffee table, and I jump up and hide behind the couch (what would _you_ do in a situation like that?) Of course, by now, Dolly's barking like crazy, her fluffy little body popping up and down on the couch. I run to the light switch, flick it up and down a few times, then I go to retrieve a flashlight from the next room. I switch it on and turn it to the two figures.

"Holy crap," I mutter under my breath, quoting the awesome Strong Bad. This is-I mean-it's impos-who the-WHAT'S GOING ON?

The two figures stand up, way taller than my petite frame, and I realize I'm blinding them with the light. I move it away from their faces and look at their clothing. Every piece is perfect, even mud-stained and a little ripped. I then hope that this has something to do with something I consumed that day.

"What is going on? Why is it so dark?" said the one, with the perfect voice of Aragorn.

"Never mind that; where are we?"

I decide to answer, better to let them know I'm a human than to be mistaken for an orc and shot. "You are in my house," I say. I then have to say the dumbest thing in the world. "You're Legolas and Aragorn, aren't you?"

They seem surprised, and then start whispering in Elvish. Dolly quietly growls at them, least they make a move towards her now-claimed bowl of popcorn.

"How did you know our names?" asks Legolas at last. At that, the power comes back on, and I can see them under the glow of fluorescence. They seem shocked to see me, though they shock is no less on my part.

_I can't say "You're in the movie, doofus,". Uh, think, think!_ "I um, read a, uh, history about you once!" (Not really a lie; I've read the books like five times.) I move to the front of the couch. "Look, I don't really know how you got here, but, uh, I'll try to be as calm as possible, and help you get back to where you were." _Hello! Orlando Bloom character in your house and you want to send him back!_

Aragorn takes a look around the living room. He walks over and touches the lamp, then the CD player, and turns and stares at the television. "We're obviously in a very strange place, Legolas," he mutters.

"It's not strange," I protest. "You just don't know where you are! Look, I was just sitting here, on the couch, during a thunderstorm, and the electricity went out, and then you were here in my living room!" The raindrops keep slapping the windows, though they have quite lessened. "Look, where were you before you got here?"

The two are quickly alarmed. "We have to defend Frodo!" Legolas cries, panicking in a way I guess Elves panic.

"He's fine," I say, knowing the story's outcome. They both give me an odd look. "I mean, I guess, uh, I'm trying to be optimistic! What's a 'Frodo' anyways?"

"We were sent to defend Frodo Baggins, a Hobbit, and we were being attack by Uruk-Hai at Amon Hen, and all of a sudden, we were here. We had just heard the horn of Gondor being blown, and we were going to help Boromir and…" Aragorn trailed off. He frowned at me and became wary. "Are you a spy of Saruman or Sauron? Trickery like this is usually of evil-making."

"Dude, I am not evil. Look, I even know how everything turns out."

"Dude?" asked Legolas, repeating the strange word. I have to laugh at that, seeing an Elf speaking English slang.

"Look, your, quest, was written in history books," I say, trying not to make it so they could understand. "And I have read the story. Frodo has an evil ring, and a Fellowship protect him and then go their separate ways and eventually the ring is destroyed and everything returns to good." I know then I have said too much.

"The ring is destroyed?" Aragorn asks. "It's in a history book?"

"Yeah," I say, trying to sound convincing. "And neither of you get killed." Perhaps I should let them sit down. Perhaps I should show them Tolkien's books I have in my bedroom. No, not that. Perhaps I should just keep trying to be calm and retrieve Dolly, who is now attacking their legs with her idle threats.


	2. What do I do with them?

"Okay, okay, okay," I breathe in and continue to pace, "okay, okay. Um, okay, you are not in Middle-Earth any more," I explain to Legolas and Aragorn. I have seated them on the living room couch, which they commented on, saying it was "most comfortable". Legolas is petting Dolly on his lap, and he seems to take to the dog, after I spent ten minutes explaining that yes, it was a dog, no, it was not a squirrel, and no, Aragorn, you may not eat it. "Look, I don't know how you got here, but I just want to say that if we all remain calm, things should settle down. First, my parents will be home any minute, and they're definitely going to be, er, surprised, by all this."

"Young lady," states Legolas, "if we aren't in Middle-Earth, then just where are we?"

I sigh, knowing that I've explained this three times already. I walk to the library, retrieve the globe, and set it before them. I point to North America. "You are on this continent, in the United States of America, and in this little area called Minnesota. It's a state; the U.S. is divided into 50 of them."

The two look at each other, a look of confusion on both of their faces. I say, "Look, let's concentrate on something else. We're going to have to do something about your clothing."

"What's wrong with what we're wearing?" asks Aragorn a little frostily.

"Aragorn," sighs Legolas in a perceptive tone, "we are in the house of a guest. We can't wear out mud-spattered clothes." He gives me a small smile, and I have to take all my strength from falling over.

"Okay," I say, my voice squeaking a little, "I think my dad's clothes might fit you. And just to warn you, today's styles are a little different from what you're used to."

"Yes," Aragorn says. "Um, we've been meaning to ask you, Aubrey, why you are wearing men's leggings."

I look down at my flare jeans, a little tattered but still okay for wearing at home. "These are called 'jeans'. Everyone wears them nowadays. Most women don't wear skirts or dresses everyday, like they did where you came from."

"Will we wear these 'jeans'?" the Elf asks.

"Yes, and you will probably wear T-shirts and sweatshirts since it's kinda cold out."

My guests look at me with hesitation, but then they both rise from the couch. "Alright," they say together.

"No, you have to _unzip_ the pants before you put them on!" I shout at the closed door into my parent's bedroom.

"Un-_what_?" asks Aragorn.

"Unzip. You know, the zipper, the little metal doodad at the-" I choose my words carefully- "_front_ of the pants."

"Do I put the belt over my left shoulder, or my right shoulder?" inquires Legolas.

"No, the belt goes through the belt loops!" I shout in frustration. It's difficult to give guys who have never seen 21st century clothing directions on putting them on without helping physically, but I'm not about going to do that, and God alone knows if Middle-Earth residents wear underwear.

"But what, how, do I, I can't wear my bow and quiver without a belt of some kind!" Legolas informs me. "This is just nonsense. Wait, did you say the zip-thing is in the front?"

I sigh and sink down to the floor, my knees at my chin. Maybe I should have let them keep their clothes, say they found them at a costume shop, but that would just be way too conspicuous.

"I think I've got it all figured out," Aragorn announces. He opens the door and comes out for my inspection. His jeans are on backwards, his T-shirt's inside-out, and he himself just looks frustrated. I sigh and walk into the bedroom, just in time to see Legolas struggling with his socks. I pick out two sweat suits and hand them to the men.

I cautiously ask, "Uh, do you two wear underwear?" The look they give me just makes me say, "Forget it; just take that stuff off and put these on. Slip this sweatshirt over your head and put your arms through the sleeves, then pull the pants over your legs and up to your waist. I'll help with shoes later."

I exit the room and walk to the kitchen for a glass of water, just in time to see my parents' car come up the driveway.


	3. Okay, they can stay

"Mom, Dad, uh, back so soon?" I am trying to stall my parents in the entry way, but they want to go to bed, I'm sure.

"Aubrey," my dad says, "It's almost ten o'clock. Shouldn't you be in bed?"

I know that the sooner I say something, the easier it'll be. "Look, something weird happened tonight, and you're not going to believe it, but try. I was watching a movie, Lord of the Rings to be precise, and all of a sudden, the storm caused the power to go out. And all of a sudden, right in our living room, Legolas and Aragorn appeared. I swear, I was so freaked out. I didn't-"

My dad stares me in the eye. "Aubrey, how much Mountain Dew have you been drinking tonight?"

"Aubrey?" My parents look past me and down the hall to their bedroom door.

"Who was that?" asks my mom, alarmed.

"Uh, Aragorn?" I say, trying to sound convincing. I run down the hall to the room. "What do you want?" I ask.

"We're dressed now. Can you please see if we look alright?" I open the door, and standing there are Aragorn in a black sweat suit, and Legolas in a dark blue one. The outfits are a little crumpled, and I straighten them out, then pull two pairs of socks out of a drawer. "Put these on your feet," I order. They do so easily, as they probably had socks in Middle-Earth.

My parents have now come to the door, and they watch the two men. Mom and Dad's faces are that of disbelief. Their eyes then scan their now-cluttered bedroom, and I can tell they've noticed the guests' old clothes and their weapons lying on the bed. Dad pulls me aside.

"Aubrey, they look just like the people in the movie," he whispers.

"Dad, you've got to be nice to them. I don't know how they got here, but we've got to allow them to stay. Can you imagine how they'd do out in the streets? They're completely ignorant of everything!"

My dad turns from me and faces the guests. "Hi, I'm Jake," he says, extending his hand. Neither Legolas nor Aragorn know better to take his hand in return. Dad's hand comes back to his side. "Could I have your names, please?"

"I'm Legolas, son of Thranduil, of Mirkwood," the Elf answers, "and this is my friend Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

"I'm LeAnn," my mom says.

Legolas smiles at her, and I can tell my mom is very pleased. "It would be a great honor to stay at the house of such a beautiful woman as you, my lady LeAnn."

"Thank you, uh, Legolas," my mom answers. "Shall I show you to the guest room?" As my mom turns from them, I try to keep from laughing as I hear her say, "Jake, you had better start talking to me like that if you want to live here anymore."

"Aubrey, it's just incredible," my dad says for about the tenth time that night. Aragorn and Legolas are sleeping, Dolly's in her kennel, and it's almost 10:45. The Middle-Earth garments and weapons have been placed on the kitchen table, and we've been examining them. "I mean, there's black blood on their knives!"

"That's from orcs, Dad," I say, dumbfounded by his lack of Middle-Earth knowledge.

My mom comes tiptoeing back from the guest room, where she's been watching the two for the last half hour. "Aragorn's sleeping, but uh, Legolas is just lying there with his eyes open."

I groan; their ignorance is almost painful. "Elves sleep with their eyes _open_, Mom. And don't worry about them; I'll take care of everything they need."

"Aubrey, do you know how you're going to send them back?" Dad asks.

_Why the flip should I send them back? They're Aragorn and Legolas, for crying out loud!_ "Uh, not really."

"So, you're just going to keep them here?"

"Well, I don't know what to do! I'll just get them used to living here for the meanwhile. I need to watch them so they don't get killed. They might try to, I don't know, drink bleach or something."

"It is kind of exciting to have a real Elf in the house," my mom says, slightly smiling. My dad looks at her, and then back at me. "Send. Them. Back. NOW."


	4. The Elimination Round

Okay, sorry for no disclaimers or whatever, but I don't own anything! Also, about the Westron/English thing, it's just a whole heck of a lot easier if they know how to speak English. Warning: slight potty humor ahead. _WHOOPWHOOPWHOOP._ Enjoy!

It's the next morning, and Dolly wakes me with her whimpering at about 5:30. I groan and wish she would just go back to sleep; my bed is so warm and cozy! But, she is my little baby, so I get up, take her out of her kennel, and take her to the kitchen where I attach her leash to her collar. Suddenly, I'm reminded by the previous night's happenings as I peer into our guest room and see Legolas on the bed and Aragorn sleeping on the ground, a blanket under him.

"Guh." Is all I can say. "Guh."

Not wanting to wake them, I tiptoe outside, let Dolly "do her thang", then tiptoe back inside, hoping to go back to bed without waking the guests. Of course, it seems that with all that went on last night, we forgot to put the cats downstairs, and I trod upon the tail of the loudest cat.

"ROWWRWEEEhissss!" She scampers off into the farthest corner, and of course, Dolly must answer with a barrage of yips and squeaks. I hurry to my room and throw Dolly (safely, of course) into her kennel, knowing she'll go back to sleep, and I hurriedly dress, not wanting to face my now-awakened guests in pajamas and braless.

I walk back to the guest room and see that they are both awake and talking, and I hope that they have cats in Middle-Earth and I don't find them making small garments out of my pets. I cough so that they turn and see me.

"Good morning," I say. "How did you sleep?"

"Well, I slept on the bed," Legolas answered, "and Aragorn slept on the ground. I guess that's how we slept."

I try not to roll my eyes. _Okay, he _is_ blond. _"I mean, did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," says Aragorn. "Except that we were awakened rather early. What was that ear-piercing noise?"

"Oh, that was my cat, Missy," I say. "You do know what a cat is, right?"

"A feline?" asks Legolas. "Oh, yes, we have many of those in Middle-Earth." We are all silent, and I try to think up something nice to say, when Legolas comes over to me and stands about three millimeters away. Again, I try not to faint.

"Um, Aubrey, Aragorn had been asking me about, er, where do you, uh, that is, where outside do you and yours prefer to, uh, _relieve yourselves_?" He whispers this, looking slightly embarrassed. I am rather confused, and then it hits me. _They don't know about bathrooms, you insensitive clod._

"Oh. Um, Aragorn, follow me." I lead them both to my bathroom, which is right next to the guest room. I switch on the light and point to our bathroom facilities.

"This is called a 'toilet'. This is what people use nowadays to, er, eliminate on. See, you just pull down your pants," I feel my face go crimson, realizing I was potty-training an 87-year-old king, "and, well, eliminate. After that, you take a few pieces of this 'toilet paper' and, uh, wipe yourself. Then, you throw the paper into the toilet bowl and 'flush'. Here, I'll show you." I grab a square of toilet paper and throw it into the toilet, then press the handle down. Aragorn and Legolas watch in amazement as the paper disappears in a surge of toilet water, gone to the great Sewer Tank in the Sky.

"So, you go in a room in your house, and not outside?" Aragorn asks, slightly confused.

"Well, this is a lot more sanitary and er, legal, so, enjoy!" I then also add, "And when you're done, wash your hands in this 'sink'." I turn on the faucet and wash my hands, then dry them on the towel. I then turn to Legolas and push him out, shutting the door behind us.

"Did you understand that?" I ask him. Yes, it is embarrassing, but housebreaking your Elf is an important thing to do.

"I don't really need that information," he says. "Disgusting thing, elimination. Elves don't, of course."

"You don't?"

"No. Elves' bodies use everything they intake and produce no waste. Neither do they-" He drops off, looking mortified.

"They don't what?" I ask.

"Well, women elves, they don't, well, have _cycles_ that women humans have. Quite a repulsive thing I hear it is."

_Luckies._ We're silent for a while, then he says, "Aubrey, what kind of human are you?"

"What?"

"Well, where do your ancestors come from? Are you Gondorian, Rohirric, of Numenor?"

"I'm Norwegian." I look at him, and he looks slightly confused.

"Well, there's a place I am not familiar with, even with all the schooling I had. Oh well, I'm sure it's a wonderful place, to produce such a beauty as you." For the third time in less than 24 hours, I try not to faint.

Then, my dad comes upstairs, dressed and ready to go to work. He takes a look at me, then a look at the Elf. "Where's, er, what'shisname?"

"Aragorn?"

"Yeah; that guy."

"In the bathroom," I say. My dad is not very happy.

"So that's why my shower kept going from scalding to freezing. Well, have fun teaching them everything." He goes to the pantry, taking a couple of granola bars and an apple, his usual breakfast.

"Don't let them, I don't know, do any ceremonious rituals involving animals, Aubrey. And I want the house standing when I come back, with only minimal damage." He says this in the tone of voice that is impossible to tell if he's joking or not.

_Yes, it's going to be a very interesting day._


	5. Day One: many discoveries

"Okay, the way my day usually goes is, I get up whenever Dolly does, I take her out, bring her back in, sleep for another hour or so, and then do whatever for the rest of the day. Sometimes I have chores to do, like clean the house, but I don't think there's anything planned for today." Legolas and Aragorn are sitting at my kitchen table, both, I notice, looking hungry.

"Um, do you guys want something to eat?"

"Please," Aragorn says eagerly. "We haven't eaten in a long time, and we've gone through quite an ordeal."

"Okay. How do Pop-Tarts sound?"

"What?" Legolas is now very confused. "Don't you have any _lembas_ or dried meat or fruit?"

"Okay, granola and fruit coming right up. You two stay there." I walk around the kitchen, taking out bowls and spoons and glasses. I pour granola into two bowls, then drench the cereal in cold skim milk. Next, a peach is sliced and the fruit covers the granola. I place this in front of them, along with glasses of orange juice. I hand them each a spoon, and they hesitantly start to eat.

It's odd to watch two guys who have never seen cereal before. First, the look on their faces is priceless, surprise and enjoyment, and they dig into the food with gusto. Their bowls are soon empty, and they ask for a refill.

Six bowls (three each) of granola later, I am digging through my dad's and brother's clothes, since the sweat suits they are wearing are rather dreadful looking, and I find jeans, T-shirts, and jackets that fit them. I even find socks and shoes for them, as their sizes are close to my dad's and brother's.

"Cute!" I exclaim at their appearance. "Except, we've got to do something about that hair."

Legolas looks alarmed and his hands fly to his head. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"People these days don't wear their hair like that, Legolas," I say. "For guys, it's pretty short to shoulder-length. Mostly it's just girls who have really long hair."

"It's improper for Elves to shorn their hair," Aragorn explains. "Didn't you know that?"

"Well, uh, that's a fact I didn't know," I stammer. "We don't really know a whole lot about, uh, the personal features of Elves." I look at the Elf's hair, thinking about what to do with it. Aragorn's hair looks pretty normal; it just needs to be combed a little.

"Is it really hard to braid your hair like that?" I ask.

"Not really," he says. "I can braid my hair like this in about five minutes."

"So you wouldn't mind if I brushed it out?"

He and Aragorn exchange a glance. "I imagine no harm will be done, Aubrey?"

"None at all! Wait just a moment." I run to my bathroom and take my nicest brush, then come back to Legolas. "Uh, how are those braids kept in?"

"Oh, here, let me," he says as he undoes the plaiting. I run the brush through the platinum blond hair, and it's a smooth, straight path; it's the silkiest hair I've ever felt. There's a bit of an awkward silence, so I strike up the conversation.

"So, is there anything you guys are curious about here?"

"Yes," says Aragorn. He points to the kitchen television. "What exactly is that?"

"Oh, that's the television."

"Television," both visitors repeat. I grab the remote and press on. Both are visually stunned at the sight of the small screen come to life. It's just a news program, but they are dumbfounded by it.

"Aubrey, why, well, how does this work?" Aragorn asks, still staring at the screen.

Well, I'm not exactly a "Popular Mechanics" kind of person, but I think I understand the general idea. I try to explain as plainly as I can.

"Well, a television receives signals from different places around the country, and these signals create, on the screen, images and the images make what we call 'television shows'. There are many kinds of television—by the way, we mostly call televisions 'TV's'—shows: fictional comedies and dramas, and informative, like the kind you see here."

"So, a television, uh, 'TV' receives images from far-off places," Aragorn surmises.

"Yes, that's just like how a palant-" Legolas's voice drops off as he and Aragorn look at each other, their eyes wide. Aragorn lunges from his chair, grasping the television set.

"This is a thing of evil, sending images of what will be from an evil institution!" He angrily pulled it out from it's place on the hutch and was about to carry it away when its wires connecting the TV to the wall jerked him back. He swiftly pulled out his knife from the pile of weapons on the table and sliced the wires off, to my horror.

"Aragorn, you, you, gimme that!" I pull the TV away from him. "This is not a thing of evil. It brings helpful information to homes all across the world, and it has helped this world for over fifty years!"

Aragorn sheepishly looked down, avoiding my stare. I know I have hurt him, but still, I never expected him to try to destroy our TV!

"I will apologize on the behalf of my friend," Legolas quietly states. "You see, we come from where evil is found in so many unsuspecting ways. _Palantirs_, for example work in the same way you described for your television."

I smile at that thought. _Yeah, he's right._

A while later, with the TV back in its place, I have already shown the two visitors the computer, my CD player, the radio, all the digital clocks, batteries, the paper shredder, the refrigerator, the electric keyboard, and pretty much everything else that uses electricity. My tour generated many "ooh's" and "aah's", though I never really found the can opener that fascinating myself.

"And what is your life like, Aubrey?" Legolas asks excitedly. "You seem to know all about ours from your history books. What do you do for schooling, for entertainment?"

"Well, I'll be a tenth-grader this year. Here, basically everyone starts going to school when they're around five years old. We learn math, reading, writing, science, history, art, music, pretty much everything. As for entertainment, well, I like to watch movies, and paint and read and write."

"That's generally what we learned when we were young," Aragorn comments. "I was taught by probably the best instructors in all of Middle-Earth. Do your, uh, history books mention my life, Aubrey?"

"Oh, yes, of course they do. Let's see, I know you were raised in Rivendell, are Isildur's heir, were a friend of Gandalf, pretty much everything."  
His face goes a little red. "Does it mention Arwen at all?"

Legolas glances at his friend and laughs, a light, cheerful laugh. "Aragorn gets quite embarrassed whenever Arwen is mentioned. But really, does it mention her history?"

"Yes, it does," I reaffirm them. "She's Elrond's daughter, and-"

"Sorry for interrupting," Aragorn says hurriedly, "but, does it turn out all right for us in the end?"

I think about how I should answer. "Well, you do get married and have a child. So yes, I guess you could say that you ends all right." He seems satisfied at that.

"And what about you, Legolas?" I ask, feeling brave. "I never really learned much about you."

This time, his face goes red and Aragorn laughs. "You are looking at the most hopeless romantic in all the Elven race!"

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. He's been chasing after one Elf-maid after another, one for nearly one hundred years. They eventually all marry off to other Elf-men."

_He's free; take him!_ "Are you currently chasing after an Elf-maid, Legolas?"

"Sadly, no," Aragorn answers for him. "The last time he was romancing, the maid herself came to King Thranduil and asked for him to keep his son away from her forever."

"Oh, poor Legolas." I laugh with Aragorn, and eventually Legolas even smiles. "Say, would you guys like to try some popcorn?"

"What's that?" Legolas asks.

"It's a snack that, well, it's kind of hard to explain, so I'll just make some." I go to the pantry and pull out a popcorn package, remove the plastic, and throw it in the microwave. I press POPCORN, and let the machine do what it does best. Aragorn and Legolas's attention is taken away from the plastic wrapper to the humming microwave, as they watch in amazement as the popcorn bag goes 'round and 'round. They both jump as the first kernel pops, and then laugh as the bag expands. The timer eventually dings, and I pull the steaming bag out. I dump the white and yellow popcorn into a bowl, and offer it to them. They each take a bite, and, like with the granola, their eyes widen in enjoyment. The entire bowl is emptied in under ten minutes, and I gab a couple of Fantas from the fridge. I pop the can, then offer one to each of the guests.

Aragorn takes a long swig, as does Legolas. I wait for it, wait for it, wait fo-

"BWWARRRPP!" I giggle helplessly at the horrified look on the Elf's face. Aragorn laughs, too, and I guess that Elves never knew they could be stimulated to such "horrid personal functions" by carbonation.


	6. Cars, email, and my brother

Sorry this chap took so long but, I have lots of other stories I'm working on. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter! BTW, if K.V. (you know who you are!) is reading this, the fake email is not based on anything you send me, nor should you feel your emails are being mocked. I don't own any LotR things that are mentioned here (SIGH).

So, it's about ten o'clock, and my mom is up, watching like a hawk, though not disguising it really well, of how I handle Legolas and Aragorn. I catch her looking out the windows then turning away when we're outside, she walks through the room we're in for no real reason, she knocks on the door and asks "How's it going?". You know, obvious stuff. Anyway, they are getting along fine in the house and in the yard, and now we're sitting on the front porch, watching Dolly bounce around on her ground tether, and of course, I'm explaining about, the inevitable, cars.

"So, you're saying that even though they are expensive and dangerous, nearly every person has one?" Aragorn asks.

"No, you see, it's more complicated than-"

"Aragorn, when 'cars' are used, people can cover hundreds of miles in a day!"

"Exactly, Legolas, so you see, Aragorn, that-"

"Sorry to interrupt, Aubrey, but still, if they cause so many deaths,-"

"Look, they are an improvement from a horse."

"Are you saying something against horses?"

"No, but, Aubrey, didn't you say that they are machines and don't eat?"

"Well, there is a fuel needed, but-"  
"Aha, so with a fuel, there is also waste, and-"

"And you know all about waste, right, human?"  
"Look, just because I'm not an insensitive Elf that doesn't know about death-"

"Guys, guys, there are both pros and cons about-"

"Oh, insensitive am I?"

"Pointy-eared pompous pretty-prince!"

"At least I don't resort to name-calling, dirty mortal!"

"Oh, go whine to your dear old father!"

"At least I have one!"

"At least I can approach a girl without her running away, screaming!"

"Oh, bring that old event up, will you!"

"You're just a-"

"SHUT UP!" _Geez, I hate yelling. Still, at least it got their attention, and probably the attention of everyone else in the county._ "Look, let's discuss something else, okay? Cars are just things that people use for transportation today. You'll get used to the sight of them eventually. Say, how about a-"

"Um, Aubrey, there's a car pulling into your, uh…"

"Driveway, Aragorn." I smile and walk over to my brother, Davis's car. I guess I should warn him before he sees, oh, too late.

"Aubrey, what the…?"

"Davis, it's all very complicated, but please, bear with me. Remember that you always claimed you saw the cat get sucked into the TV that one time? Well, it's kind of reverse of that…"

An hour later, Davis is chatting away with Legolas and Aragorn. Well, not chatting necessarily. I would be hoping that my brother, with all the potential he has of being a gentleman, would engage our visitors in deep conversation, asking about the culture, politics, and geography of the land from which they came. However, the conversation goes more like this:

"Nice knife," Davis says.

"Thanks," Aragorn says.

"Betcha skinned a lot of animals with that thing."

"Oh, yes."

And, to my horror, they both spit in approval. AAUgh, it's like a hellish nightmare knowing that, even though Aragorn was perhaps the most dignified and respected man in all of Middle-Earth, he's spitting, just like my dodo-head of a brother.

"Aburey?"

"Yes, Legolas?"

"I was wondering, pray, what type of tree is that? It's certainly not like any I have ever seen before." He points up to the radio tower that stands behind our house a ways, that always has a blinking red light on the top.

"Oh, that's not a tree. It's a tall tower thing made of metal."

"Oh. And, what is it for?"

"It, well, it-" How can I explain when I don't really know a whole heck of a lot about radio waves and towers?

"I'll tell you later," I answer. I feel as I though I'm talking to a little girl who just found a box of tampons and asked what they were for.

"Aubrey, look!" Legolas exclaims. He points across our lawn to the golf course on the other side of the road. People have been playing all day, but I guess neither of the visitors took notice of them. We watch as the first person hits the ball towards the flag, and the ball goes way off course and lands on the road. Much profanity is heard, and I have a strong urge to cover Legolas' ears.

"Aubrey, what does that mean?" he asks me.

Again, I answer with, "I'll tell you later."

Davis suggests we go inside. _Wait a minute, weren't they just talking about a knife? _And yes, Aragorn has attached his knife sheath to the outside of his jeans pant leg, and I can't believe I didn't notice it. Oh well, let him look tacky.

Inside, I decide to check my e-mail. Please, something besides another Fanfiction review alert. I don't mind them, but it seems like they post every little piece of information in confusing patterns like "fmilsdfw2324mnet ipenai 222 openemailfanfivfwfwmaolsystemalert--;/-" all over the screen, and then, if you can find the review, it's in teensy weensy font no bigger than this: haha. Good job. Luv it. Can't wait 'til next chap. I love reviews and everything, but it just is so frustrating!

"Aubrey? Why is your face all red?" Aragorn is standing next to me, and I meekly cool down. I open my email account, and hooray, there's a little note from my friend Kristy:

Hi! Wazup, Aubrey? Nothin much goin on down here. School sucks. Yeah, bit of a bummer, but theres a really cute guy here. Lol. I think he likes me but I'm not really sure.  Like, anyway, I saw jeff at the pool yesterday with his arm around Katie what'sherface, and they were all flirtin and stuff, and I was totally to angie, "omg, get a load of that" and she was all like "omg, like, omg." So, yeah.. Talk atcha later, hon. –Kristy."

"What is all of that about?" Aragorn asks.

"Well, Kristy wanted to talk to me."

"Really? May I talk to her?"

_This should be amusing._ "Okay."

Aragorn sits in the computer chair, and clears his throat. "Ahem, Kristy, is it? Well, dear Lady Kristy, please learn to speak intelligently to your good friend. She is so kind, that she deserves grammatically correct notes. And furthermore…" Aragorn stops, turning to see me on the ground, laughing, crying and clutching my sides. Oh, man, they will never understand technology. 


	7. Hot dog!

Well, it's been a while, I know. But, enjoy the latest chapter.

My mom needs to go to the supermarket and buy more groceries, so I suggest to my "guests" that they come along. It takes a while to explain to Legolas and Aragorn that they need to leave their weapons at home:

"What do you mean, Aubrey? People don't like weapons?"

"No, Legolas, it's not that; it's just not acceptable to display them in public."

"Not even a small knife?"

"No, Aragorn, not even a small knife."

He thinks about this for a minute. "Then how can they defend themselves, or hunt?"

"You'll see why people don't need to really hunt all the time once we get to the supermarket."

So for the entire duration of the car ride (which they thought was pretty remarkable), I was explaining a supermarket: How it has all kinds of food from all over the world and how there are other services like a pharmacy and video rental. They ask about videos, and I find myself unable to answer straightly; I guess we, who use these products every day, just take them for granted and don't really understand them ourselves.

We finally arrive, and we exit the car. We walk in through the revolving door, which they also find pretty remarkable, and we enter the building.

"There are so many people here," Legolas remarks to me. About thirty shoppers are visible at the present time, none really paying much attention to us. We follow my mom around to the different food aisles, until she says, "Aubrey, go pick out some fruit. Your, er, _friends_ can help you."

So we make our way to the produce aisle. "Apples, I know these," says Aragorn with a smile. "But what are these orange things?"

"Oranges," I say.

"Oh. What are these _oranges_ things?"

"They're oranges."

"That's what I said. I was asking what you call these oranges things."

"That's their name: Oranges."

"Aragorn, I think she's saying that the fruit bears the same name of its color."

"Thank you, Legolas."

I try to keep my voice down a bit when saying their names; the last thing I need is for someone to notice me talking to two men who strangely resemble characters from a certain movie.

"What are these yellow things?" Aragorn holds up a lemon and bites into it before I can stop him. His face contorts awfully as I wince and take the lemon away. I quickly place it in the trash near us and take a tissue from my purse. He wipes his mouth and removes the lemon he had bitten into.

"Those are lemons," I say. I then teach them all the names of the vegetables and fruits around us, and an elderly lady nearby gives me a strange look.

"They're not from this country," I say quietly, wishing she would mind her own business. I turn to the man and elf. "You know, it would look kind of more convincing that you're not from here if you didn't' speak in English all the time. How about you speak in Elvish?"

They gratefully accept my suggestion and converse in the Middle Earth language as I bag some nectarines and apples. They follow me around, and no one's paying much attention to us, that is, until a rather nerdy-looking stock boy wearing a pocket protector walks up to Aragorn and Legolas and starts speaking to _them_ in fluent Elvish!

_Oh no! _ I think. _I didn't account on Ringies noticing them! Crud. Oh well, maybe they won't say anything about being from Middle Earth or ending up in my house or anything weird. _ Eventually, the stock boy leaves, and I walk over to them.

"You didn't say anything about being from Middle Earth, did you?" I ask.

"No, of course not," Aragorn says. "He was a nice young man. I was surprised that he speaks Elvish. Is that something children can learn in school?"

"Uh, not really; it's more of a voluntary thing."

"Oh." We take our bags of fruit and walk back towards my mom, who's about ready to leave. The food is purchased, and we walk back out of the store. It's about noon, and we notice a hot dog vendor, with all proceeds going towards the local girl scout troop.

"Would you like some hot dogs?" Mom asks.

"Sure," I say. Mom purchases four and I hand one each to Legolas and Aragorn. They each eat their dogs and I ask them how they thought they tasted.

"Great," says Aragorn. "Is this a normal thing for you to eat, or more of a rarity?"

"You fool," says Legolas, "something this great could not be an everyday meal. It's a special delicacy, right, Aubrey?"

"Um, well, I guess you can say Americans enjoy them," is all I can say. Good thing they like them; we're having hot dogs for dinner tonight.


	8. Fangirls

Alright, this is the FINAL installment of this fanfic. _Sniff._ I just wanted to finish it up and get it off my mind. I have lots of other fanfix out there if you enjoyed my writing. Enjoy!

Legolas, Aragorn, and I have been working on a large puzzle when the phone rings. I get up and answer it, as no one else is home.

"Hello?"

"Omigosh! Aubrey!" I immediately recognize the hurried, bubbling voice of my best friend.

"Hi, Ruthie."

"Yeah. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you have two outrageously hot guys who look exactly like Aragorn and Legolas from Lord of the Rings staying at your house?"

"How did you find out?"

Ruthie sighs and explains. "Melanie saw you with _them_ at the market, and she of course told Mike, obviously since they're dating, who told his sister Justine, who talked about it with Carmen at volleyball last night, who of course told me at swimming this morning. Why didn't you tell me?"

"'Cause I didn't feel comfortable."

"What? You tell me everything, Aubrey!"

"I know. It's just…" I sigh and whisper, "It's a tricky situation. They're the real deal."

"Huh?"

"They're Aragorn and Legolas from Middle Earth."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not! I was watching the movie during a thunderstorm, and all of a sudden, the power went out and they were in my living room!"

There was a slight pause on the other line. "Uh oh."

"What's 'uh oh'?"

"So they're really from Middle Earth?"

"Yes, they're really from Middle Earth."

"This is not good."

"Why?"

"Well, I told a couple of my friends that they could come over with me when I come to your house tomorrow."

"What?"

"They won't be a problem, I swear!"

"Ruthie…"

"Just, well, keep your windows and doors locked."

"Why?"

"Let's just saw the grapevine's really extended right now." She hangs up the phone and I stare at it. Suddenly, I look down a glass of water, and, a la Jurassic Park, rhythmic ripples start appearing on it. I look up to the kitchen window, and my eyes grow wide as I see multitudes and multitudes of fangirls waving signs saying "I **Heart** Orli!" and similar phrases. There's nothing for me to do but let out an ear-splitting scream.

"…May it be, when darkness falls…" I wake up, seeing the credits rolling and hearing Enya singing her beautiful song. The storm has ended, the movie is done, and Dolly is looking up at me, wondering if I'll take her outside. I thank my stars it was all a dream: No force is scarier than an army of fangirls.


End file.
